


let me violate you

by nanifuku (orenji)



Category: Free!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fingerfucking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, i tried to make this a plotty thing but it didn't work out, it's just sex i'm sorry, slight D/s undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2340284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orenji/pseuds/nanifuku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It fills Sousuke with someone carnal and hot because he likes seeing this brand new side to Makoto so much—a side so debauched and wrecked and submissive and he wants to see more, more, <em>more</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me violate you

**Author's Note:**

> title from "closer" by nine inch nails (SUCH a sexy song please use it whenever you're writing sex) (rough/hard sex most preferably) 
> 
> yeah so i tried so hard to actually incorporate a plot into this  
> i really, REALLY tried for like a good 2-3 weeks to think of something in which this scenario would fit into but literally not a single plot i thought of worked out so here's some smut i wrote i guess

They’re barely past Sousuke’s front door when Makoto whips both their shirts off their heads and throws them somewhere to the side before sinking down to his knees. Makoto unbuckles Sousuke’s belt with deft fingers, pulls his boxers and jeans down just enough to free his cock. Sousuke hisses at the cold air hitting his bare skin and then feels his breath stutter in his throat moments later when he turns his gaze to look down at Makoto.

Makoto’s eyes have darkened, green being outshone by black, and he looks _hungry_ as he looks down at Sousuke’s cock like it's the only thing he'll ever need. He licks his lips and then glances up from underneath his eyelashes, almost as if he’s asking for permission. Sousuke exhales harshly and nods jerkily as he reaches behind Makoto’s head, grasps his soft hair, and guides him down.

Makoto’s lips part immediately as he takes in the head, his hand going to grasp firmly at the base. Sousuke watches as Makoto’s eyelashes fan over the sharp cut of his cheekbones, watches how Makoto’s lips look obscenely red as they stretch around his cock, watches as Makoto’s hand works what his mouth can’t. His mouth is warm and wet and his tongue is skilled and he looks _so_ good, his cheeks hollowed out with a slight blush to them. Sousuke reaches down with his other hand, pokes his thumb into the dip of Makoto’s cheek.

It spurs him on, Sousuke thinks, because Makoto meets Sousuke’s gaze again and doesn’t break eye contact as he goes down, down, down until his nose is buried in Sousuke’s coarse curls and he’s breathing out hard through his nose, his throat fluttering wildly. Sousuke pants, takes his hand away from Makoto’s face and splays his palm against the front door instead to keep himself upright because he’s not sure he can even stand on his own.

Makoto stays there, just stays there, watching Sousuke, cock still in his mouth, his mouth parted wide, drool making its way down the side of his chin the longer he doesn’t move. Sousuke takes labored breaths, wanting to almost jerk his hips forward to see if Makoto would take it, to see if Makoto would just submit to him. He curls the hand he already has in Makoto’s hair a little tighter, licks his lips.

“Can I move?” he asks breathlessly.

Makoto’s eyes completely glaze over and he pulls his hand away from Sousuke’s cock. He takes both of his arms and he fucking _folds them_ behind his back and he still isn’t moving and Sousuke nearly chokes on his own spit at the sight. He inhales sharply before he pulls back, until Makoto’s mouth is enclosed only around the tip, and then moves forward in a small jerk. Makoto moans around him, sending vibrations throughout his cock that wrack his entire body, so he pulls back and rolls his hips forward again, creating a sort of rhythm as he fucks shallowly into Makoto’s mouth.

Makoto is so into it, he looks brilliant and he’s just taking it, he’s taking whatever Sousuke gives him because he wants this, he’s craving this, and Sousuke can see it clearly. He can see it in the way Makoto’s cock is hard beneath his jeans and he can see it in the way Makoto’s mouth opens wider whenever he pushes a little deeper and he can see it in the way Makoto keeps his arms locked behind himself willingly, submissively. It’s so sexy and it’s so brilliant and it’s so new—this side of Makoto is just so _new_ and it’s driving Sousuke insane.

Sousuke halts his movements, takes his hand from where it’s flat on the door and then caresses Makoto’s cheek with his fingers. His fingers trail down the side of Makoto’s face before he reaches the corner of Makoto’s mouth. He breathes in slowly, deeply before he pushes in his thumb alongside his cock between Makoto’s lips. Makoto’s eyes widen with surprise and clear arousal before his tongue darts from underneath Sousuke’s cock to lick at the pad of his thumb instead. Sousuke grunts, throws his head back against the front door with a painful thud.

“Fuck, Makoto,” Sousuke says brokenly.

Makoto makes this little noise around his cock, something breathier than a moan but louder than a whimper and it’s so fucking hot, it’s so fucking hot that Sousuke immediately feels something thick and warm curl up in the pool of his belly.

“I’m close,” he whispers.

Makoto just looks at him, and he can’t say anything what his mouth full, but he’s not budging from his spot and it’s like he’s telling Sousuke to just come in his god damned mouth and Sousuke groans loudly in response. He pulls out his thumb, uses that hand to join the other hand he has in Makoto’s hair. He fists at his locks, soft and silky beneath his palms, and pushes into Makoto’s mouth again, rough and deep this time with no finesse. He feels Makoto’s throat constantly flutter around him, feels the pulsations around his cock whenever Makoto makes those little noises, hears the filthy slurping sound that comes from driving in and out of Makoto’s mouth.

He feels a familiar heat erupt in short spasms in his stomach, feels the heat travel up to his chest and his neck and all over his entire body. He manages to murmur out Makoto’s name in a warning tone, but Makoto doesn’t pay it any mind and starts to move his own head now in time with Sousuke’s thrusts instead of just letting the raven do what he wants. Sousuke breathes hard and fast, lets out an embarrassingly loud croak because _fuck_. His grip in Makoto’s hair tightens even more so, until he’s sure it must hurt, but he can’t help it because he’s so close, he’s so fucking close. 

“I’m coming,” Sousuke chokes out.

Makoto doesn’t stop, continually bobbing his head, and Sousuke can see when he looks down that Makoto’s eyelashes are slightly damp and his cheeks are so flushed and his lips are so wet and it’s such a ridiculously erotic sight that it’s one, two, three more thrusts until he’s coming down Makoto’s throat with a shout. He closes his eyes and stars just burst beneath his eyelids and his brain short-circuits and his toes curl and he can’t think or move as his grip in Makoto’s hair automatically weakens and his jaw falls slack and just— _Christ._

Makoto is still working on him, licking up the come until there’s nothing left, swirling his tongue around the slit, lapping at the head and Sousuke feels like he’s just drunk at this point, barely steady on his feet. Makoto pulls away, finally, seconds later, panting softly, and he looks up, eyes slightly teary and lips stretching into a small, lingering smile. He unlocks his arms from behind his back, runs one hand through his mussed up hair and uses the other to wipe away the drool that dribbled down his chin, somehow managing to make it look adorable and not gross.

Sousuke carefully falls down onto his knees before he cups Makoto’s face, pulling him into a kiss. Makoto’s lips are pliant and soft and responsive as Sousuke snakes an arm around his waist, pulling him close until their torsos are flush. He curls his tongue into Makoto’s mouth, tastes himself while he’s doing so, and it’s kind of weird but Makoto sighs and melts into him completely and it makes everything totally worth it.

Sousuke pulls away first and presses their foreheads together, listening to both of their heavy breathing. Makoto shifts then and Sousuke feels something obvious and blunt press against his thigh so he looks down and notices with a start that Makoto is still so ridiculously hard beneath his pants and still hasn’t had any chance at any sort of relief. He immediately pulls away from their loose embrace and pushes Makoto down onto the floor instead, his eyes taking in how Makoto spreads himself out on the wooden panels, hair falling perfectly beneath his head, his legs falling apart without any say.

“What are you doing?” Makoto asks, voice raspy from being throat-fucked, his eyes heavily-lidded.

Sousuke crawls forward, looms over Makoto. He runs a hand over Makoto’s clothed erection, desire shrouding his mind when a soft groan of his name slips past Makoto’s lips. His thumb and forefinger latch onto Makoto’s zipper and he pulls it down just a notch, hearing Makoto’s breath hitch the slightest bit. He leans down, licks a hot stripe up Makoto’s neck before kissing a wet path upwards, pausing when his lips reach the shell of the brunet’s ear.

“Your turn.”

 

* * *

 

“Sousuke,” Makoto says, panting, clutching at Sousuke’s forearm with one hand, his other hand clawing at the floor, his voice high and raw. He throws his head back, his neck veins suddenly becoming visible as Sousuke curls his fingers with just the right amount of pressure. Sousuke just watches on from in between Makoto’s bare and parted thighs, absolutely enthralled as Makoto comes undone with only his fingers, as Makoto falls apart right in front of him.

“Can you take another?” Sousuke asks, twisting his two fingers and leaning down to mouth wetly at Makoto’s neck, drinking in the way Makoto shivers under his lips. 

“Yes,” Makoto replies, breathy and broken, digging his nails into the crook of Sousuke’s elbow. He meets Sousuke’s gaze, looks at him with blown pupils. “I can take whatever you give me, just, please—”

Makoto ends up cutting himself off, a long moan escaping his lips instead when Sousuke pushes in a third finger and scissors them apart. Sousuke stills, waiting patiently for a reaction or a signal as he lets Makoto relax around the stretch. When Makoto finally makes a small breathy noise after a few moments and grinds down on his fingers little, Sousuke nods and pushes in deep, up until his knuckles are resting flush against the curve of Makoto’s ass. He rolls his wrist, turns his fingers in small circles, tries to find that little bundle of nerves that he knows would drive Makoto _wild._

He brushes against something for the barest of seconds and he thinks he’s found it so he chases after it again, presses into it deliberately and Makoto goes absolutely still underneath him, lips open in a noiseless moan, stomach muscles tensing wildly underneath his skin.

“Is that it?” Sousuke asks whilst jerking his fingers forward. Makoto slams his head back against the floor with a painful thud in response, breathing labored and quick.

“Right there,” Makoto gasps out. “Don’t stop.”

Sousuke lets out a slow exhale and withdraws his fingers until they’re almost out, feeling the clench of Makoto’s body around his fingers in protest, and then rams back into that spot without any pretense, and Makoto chokes, raising his hips off the floor weakly.

“Can you come like this?” Sousuke asks, voice thick with arousal.

Makoto pants roughly, his grip on Sousuke’s arm tightening, his other hand balling into a fist by his side. “I don’t—I don’t know, I just—”

“Just what?” Sousuke asks, curling all of his fingers abruptly.

Makoto whines low and deep in his throat and pushes back against Sousuke’s hand, rotating his hips in tight circles in time with Sousuke’s movements.

“Sousuke,” Makoto murmurs, voice cracking sinfully. “Please, please, I need you to—I can’t come like this, I need you—my cock—”

With every thrust of Sousuke’s fingers, Makoto just becomes more and more incoherent, becomes more and more of a babbling mess, sputtering jumbled phrases and words. Sousuke knows what Makoto’s asking for, though, because Makoto’s cock looks almost angry against his stomach and it’s so obvious that all he wants to do is fucking come, have Sousuke jerk him off but the thing is—he could jerk himself off if he wanted to because he has one free hand, but he _doesn’t_ because it’s clear that he wants Sousuke to do it, that he wants Sousuke to touch him. It fills Sousuke with someone carnal and hot because he likes seeing this brand new side to Makoto so much—a side so debauched and wrecked and he wants to see more, more, _more_.

“Ask me,” Sousuke commands, leaning down and biting down on Makoto’s neck, sucking a bruise into his sweaty skin. He pulls out halfway, slams back in again, feeling the tight heat squeeze around his fingers. Makoto cries out, thrashes his head against the ground, abs jumping under his skin and breaths leaving his mouth in such fast huffs that it sounds like he’s going to hyperventilate.

“Sousuke,” Makoto chokes out.

Sousuke pulls away from Makoto’s neck, observes the purple blooming darkly against the tan of his skin, and then shifts his gaze to Makoto’s face. He takes in the way tears are forming in Makoto’s eyes, the way Makoto’s face and chest are so red, the way Makoto looks so desperate and beautiful.

“Ask me,” Sousuke repeats, a little breathlessly.

“Please,” Makoto whispers softly. “Please—can you touch my cock?” Makoto asks, begging, pleading. “Sousuke, _Sousuke_.”

Sousuke nods jerkily, takes his hand and reaches down, hovering over Makoto’s cock, teasing, light brushes, and Makoto whines with every almost-touch. Sousuke gives in, finally, and wraps his hand around Makoto’s dick and is rewarded with the sweetest, loudest moan. He takes the pre-come that formed at the slit and spreads it up and down Makoto’s cock with his palm before he actually starts moving, stroking in time with the slow thrusts of his fingers.

Makoto chants his name like a mantra, gasping for air, clutching onto Sousuke’s forearm with both hands now for what seems like his dear life, his knuckles turning white as he digs all his ten fingers into the raven’s skin. Sousuke is absolutely sure it’ll leave bruises, but he finds that he doesn’t really care, not when Makoto is like _this_.

“Close?” Sousuke asks, voice husky and low as he leans down and presses his lips to the hickey on Makoto’s neck, tonguing the heated mark in a sort of apology with smooth glides. Makoto nods helplessly when Sousuke pulls away, looking too far-gone to even breathe out a proper response.

It’s only a bare few seconds later that Sousuke sees it: the clouding over of Makoto’s eyes, the curling of his toes, the sudden tautness of his body, the falling open of his jaw, and the violent tensing of his muscles. Makoto meets his gaze, looking helpless and teary and like he’s on the god damned precipice of snapping so Sousuke quickly crooks his fingers, pushes and rubs mercilessly at Makoto's prostate, uses his other hand to thumb roughly at the head of Makoto’s cock before muttering out a demanding—

“Come.”

Makoto screams Sousuke’s name, tears spilling down his cheeks, arches his back like a puppet being pulled by its strings. He clenches and unclenches in fierce spasms around Sousuke’s fingers as he comes all over his own stomach in hot spurts, the white a stark contrast to his golden skin. Sousuke works him through it, pumps his cock until he’s dry and is shuddering weakly under his touch. He moves to pull his fingers out of Makoto’s body, carefully, delicately, and murmurs out a quick apology when Makoto lets out a small mewl in response.

Sousuke leans back on his heels, mesmerized and captivated, as he watches Makoto come down from his high. Makoto falls back onto the floor like he’s boneless, his hands letting go of Sousuke’s arm and instead going to run through the hair sticking wetly to his forehead. His chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath and there are tear tracks down the sides of his face and his cheeks are flushed and his throat is marked and he looks thoroughly _ruined_.

Sousuke sucks in a deep breath through his nose before he glances down and notices that the come on Makoto’s stomach is in the process of drying. He shifts a little on his knees and moves to get up to grab some tissues so that he could clean up, but then he feels legs feebly hooking themselves around the small of his back and ankles digging into the skin right above his bum.

He stills in his movements, eyes darting downwards to see Makoto reaching out with both his arms. He cups the back of Sousuke’s neck, mouth parting just a tad. Sousuke nods at the wordless request and lets himself be pulled down. He lets his bare torso press flush against Makoto’s come-streaked one, lets his thumbs come up to wipe away the wetness on Makoto’s cheeks, lets himself be kissed nice and slow.

Sousuke pulls away first, continues to rub comforting circles into the curve of Makoto’s cheekbones with his thumbs until they’re no longer damp. Makoto leans into the touch, his fingers twisting gently into the little hairs on Sousuke’s neck as his cheeks return to their normal color, as his eyes regain a look of clarity, as his breathing evens and calms.

“You alright?” Sousuke asks.  

Makoto looks up and shoots him a small, crooked smile. “I’m amazing,” he replies softly, voice a bit hoarse from overuse. “ _You’re_ amazing.”

Sousuke feels pride build up in the pits of his stomach. “Yeah?” he asks, letting his hands travel down Makoto’s face and torso until they come to rest comfortably on his hips.

“Mhm,” Makoto replies before tipping his head and pressing their lips together. “That was really, really great,” he whispers against Sousuke’s mouth.

“For me, too,” Sousuke murmurs honestly, pecking Makoto’s bottom lip chastely with each word spoken. “You’re not what I expected.”

Makoto pulls away and wrinkles his nose cutely as he laughs, the sound of it managing to be silvery and clear, like dainty wind chimes. “Really now?”

Sousuke hums in response before leaning in, closing his eyes, and pressing their foreheads together. He listens to their steady breathing, listens to every smooth inhale and exhale as they come down from their post-sex daze. Makoto’s fingers drum tunelessly against the nape of his neck, and he lets his own fingers dance across the jut of Makoto’s hipbones. Easy, relaxed.

The silence goes on for about another minute or so until Sousuke breaks it with, “So, this is going to be a thing, then?”

He opens his eyes, sees Makoto’s eyelids fluttering open as well.

“What is?” Makoto asks.

“This,” Sousuke clarifies, glancing down at their intertwined bodies. “You and me.”

Makoto blinks, once, twice, and then his lips curl into this gorgeous sort of beam. “Yeah,” he replies, the word sounding somehow sweet as it rolls off his tongue. He tilts his head up, brushes the tips of their noses together lightly. “Yeah, this is going to be a thing.”  

**Author's Note:**

> *whistles inconspicuously*


End file.
